“What does that mean?”
“ ‘B’ is for ‘Blank.’ ”
“Oh.” She opened the glove compartment. “All of these seems to be marked ‘Z.’ What does that mean?”
“ ‘Z’ stands for ‘Zoweee!’ Those are the live ones.”
“Oh… here’s a ‘B.’ ” She handed the shell to Max,
He slipped it into the chamber. “Fasten all seat belts,” he said.
“Rorff!”
“Then lie down on the floor,” Max said.
Max fired the cannon. There was a tremendous explosion. The car hurtled backwards, ripping free of the tow truck. As it zoomed, like a shot, to the rear, Max steered, looking out the back window. The car finally came to a halt six blocks from where the cannon had been fired.
“Simple as pie,” Max smiled. “From here on out it ought to be clear-”
Blossom had stuffed her fingers in her ears.
7
A few minutes later they reached the cab company’s main garage. The superintendent there confirmed that the license number belonged to one of the company’s cabs.
“And where would we find the driver?” Max asked.
The superintendent pulled at his chin. “Ya want me to pinpoint it?”
“As closely as you can.”
“Well, the best I could say is, he’s somewheres between the Hudson River and the East River, and between the Battery and Yonkers.”
“In other words, somewhere on Manhattan Island.”
“Yeah. Unless, of course, he got a fare for, say, Queens or Brooklyn or Staten Island or maybe over in Jersey. If you’re gonna pin me down, I’ll say definitely he’s probably somewheres east of the Rocky Mountains.”
“That may make it a little difficult,” Max said tautly. “Let me ask you this: Will he be reporting in soon?”
“Oh, yeah, he calls in.”
“Then perhaps the dispatcher has heard from him?”
“Yeah, you can talk to him.”
They went to the dispatcher’s office.
“Yeah, I talked to him just a couple seconds ago,” he said.
“Could you tell me exactly where he was at the last report?” Max said.
“Sure. He was standin’ right where you’re standin’ now.”
Max turned to Blossom. “We’re narrowing it down,” he said. Then, to the dispatcher, he said, “Would you have any idea where he is at this exact moment?”
“Try the lunch counter down the block,” the dispatcher said. “His name is Harry.”
They found Harry where the dispatcher suggested that he might be. He was a large, smiling man. “Whatcha want?” he said.
“Harry,” Max said, “I want you to think about this and answer it carefully. The fate of the entire civilized world may depend on your reply.”
“Yeah, ya know, the same thing happened to me last week,” Harry said. “I was cruisin’ Park Avenue, see, and this guy hails me. He’s got this overnight bag. And when he gets in, I hear this overnight bag goin’ tick-tick-tick. Well, to me, it sounds like-”
“Harry,” Max broke in, “time is of the essence.”
“Same with this guy last week,” Harry said. “He’s in a big hurry. Like if he don’t get where he’s goin’ somethin’ horrible’s gonna happen. So I said to him, I said, ‘Look,’ I said-”
“Harry, excuse me, but a computer’s life is at stake. Now, earlier today, in the Village, you picked up a gorgeous brunette and a metallic-looking fellow whose eyes revolved and-”
“Ya know, funny you should mention that. About, say, two weeks ago, I’m cruisin’ along Fifth Avenue, and I get hailed by this gorgeous brunette. I say to myself, ‘Now there’s a dame that looks familiar.’ So she gets in the cab, and I start thinkin’. Who’s she? From somewhere, I know her. But who’s she? I start goin’ over names in my mind. Elizabeth Taylor, I think. No. Sophia-”
“Harry,” Max interrupted, “it’s a fascinating story, but unless we find this gorgeous brunette and her captive very soon, it may be too late to save the Western World from complete domination by the Bad Guys. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for that, would you?”
“Well, live and let live,” Harry replied. “The trouble is, today, who’s the Bad Guys? I remember about twenty years ago, the guys that was the Bad Guys then is the Good Guys today. And the guys that was the Good Guys then is the Bad Guys today. So, the way I look at it, you got to take the long view. How do I know that the Bad Guys today ain’t gonna be the Good Guys tomorrow? And, ya know, I intend to be in business for a while. How do I know that the Bad Guys of today, when they’re the Good Guys of tomorrow, how do I know but what maybe they’ll want to hail a cab? So I don’t take no sides. Business as Usual, that’s my motto.”
“All right, forget about that,” Max said. “Let’s get back to that gorgeous brunette. The guy that was with her, this Fred-”
“Oh, yeah, I didn’t finish my story, did I? So, anyway, I said to myself, ‘Sophia Loren? No. Jean Harlow-’ ”
“Harlow was a blond.”
“How did I know, maybe she dyed her hair. Maybe she’s wearin’ a wig. Right? Anyway, it wasn’t none of them. You know who it was?”
“Who?”
“Agnes Cornfelder.”
Max nodded dimly. “Agnes Cornfelder.”
“Yeah. She lived down the block from me when I was a kid. Well, was I surprised! ‘Listen, Agnes,’ I says, ‘I remember you. How come when you was a kid you was a red-head and skinny and had buck teeth? How come now you’re such a gorgeous brunette?’ Ya know what she says? She says her name ain’t Agnes, and if she’d’ve ever knew me when she was a kid she’d’ve shot herself. That’s what ya get for tryin’ to be complimentary to a person. Ya know?”
“It don’t… it doesn’t pay,” Max said. “Now, getting back to the problem. Earlier today, you picked up a gorgeous brunette and a robot. What I want to know is-”
“A robot?”
“A computer, actually, but built in the form of a robot.”
“You’d think I’d remember a thing like that,” Harry said. “I don’t remember no robot.”
“Revolving eyes. Lever at his side.”
“Oh. Was that guy a robot? How about that! Boy, the mistakes in recognition a guy can make. I been tellin’ the guys I had Rock Hudson in the cab with me today. How about that!”
“Where?” Max said. “Where did you take them?”
“East Side. Posh apartment house. You want the number?”
“I want the number,” Max said.
Harry gave him the number, then added, “But if you’re one of them autogram hunters, you’re wastin’ your time. I just found out that guy ain’t Rock Hudson. Some kook tells me he’s some kind of a robot made up like Rock Hudson.”
“I’ll check it out,” Max said briskly, backing away.
The four blocks to the East Side address was only an hour drive through crosstown traffic. Reaching there, Max, Blossom and Fang jumped out of the car and approached the doorman at the entrance to the building.
“If it weren’t for the uniform, I’d say that guy looks familiar,” Max said.
“He certainly is nice-looking,” Blossom said. “I wonder if he’s married.”
“I’m still married,” the doorman said, having overheard the conversation.
